


Che, Colin och College

by lesbianbitchboy



Category: Saturday Night Live, Saturday Night Live RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Boys In Love, Everyone's queer because I said so, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24089926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianbitchboy/pseuds/lesbianbitchboy
Summary: Colin and Michael, being soft and cliché on Harvard Campus. This is set in modern days, and not back in 2003 when Colin actually went to Harvard.This fandom lacked a College-AU, so I decided to write one. Enjoy!
Relationships: Leslie Jones/Kate McKinnon, Michael Che/Colin Jost
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	Che, Colin och College

"Top of the mornin' to ya', Colin," Kate announced in a southern accent as she showed up in the doorway to his dorm. He looked up at the blonde with groggily blues and tried to pull the duvet further over his head. 

"Hi, Katey. Eh, yeah, if I were you, I'd leave. Sorry, I'll catch up with you later," he groaned and tried to hide the gigantic man under the covers. Kate scanned his face and raised a suspicious eyebrow. 

"What'chu hiding there, Col?" She slowly shifted further and further towards the twin bed that Colin had smuggled in via the window during his freshman year. Colin, sort of panicking, frantically dragged the white sheet up to his chin. 

"God, would you let an innocent man breathe here, Kate? I'm just... eh, I got an ugly sweater on!" He stammered on, although his red cheeks completely dismissed his poor excuse. Much to his distress, Kate, the devil herself, just reached over and pulled the entire set off of the bed. 

"Hi, I'm Michael, and eh, I am the world's ugliest sweater," Michael stated when Kate had finished shrieking in horror. The smaller woman stared at Michael, then at Colin, then at Michael again. And then she full-on punched Colin in the face. 

"Oh my god, Kate!? What the hell?" He screamed, reaching up to rub his sore jaw. For a little woman, damn could she land a punch. Michael couldn't stop himself from laughing at the absurdity. 

"You decide to go fuck your longtime crush - the football team's quarterback - without even consulting me first? We're supposed to be best friends, dude!" Kate yelled, getting right up in Colin's personal space. Colin just rubbed his neck and tried to focus on her reprimanding, and not on the hand that had slipped suspiciously high up on his bare thigh. He gulped and swatted the duvet-covered hand away. 

"Yeah, I know I should've told you, darling, but it happened so quickly, I didn't get the chance to." He explained, and Kate's fierce eyes turned to their usual sparkling blue. She nodded and took another look at Michael, now tracing patterns on Colin's bare chest. He looked back at her, trying to make out if she was about to hit him as well. Turns out no, she wasn't. Instead, she pulled him in for a bone-shattering hug. He just sat there, until Colin nudged him to hug her back. 

"Well, I'm happy you guys figured out your little debacle here. Michael, welcome to the family, make yourself comfortable, I have a feeling you're going to stick around for a bit. Colin, you're coming over to mine and Leslie's dorm for brunch later. Details, or it didn't happen. Have fun, condoms are in the third drawer." She blew them both kisses, and turned her heel, exiting the dorm, humming Hamilton-lyrics.   
  


"Soooo..." Michael said a minute or two after Kate had left. The silence in the room grew awkward. 

"Yeah... well, she's a lot. I know, and I'm sorry that the first experience you have with my friends was... this," his cheeks flushed ones again, and he bit down on his chapped lip. Michael just laughed, like he always does, and shook his head. 

"Bro, you don't even know. My teammates are so, so, much worse. When I told them that we'd started dating," Colin smiled at the phrasing, dating. Cute. 

"Well, they were all so goddamn intrusive, bro. Like, Kate's obviously a lot, yeah, but have you ever been tackled from behind by a 6'4, very high and sorta' depressed running back, just to be fuckin' slammed with explicit questions about your sex life?" Colin shook his head as he wheezed. 

"Nah, thought so. They're all crazy, I'm tellin' you." 

Colin chuckled and snuggled closer into his boyfriend's embrace. "I'll take your word for it."

The crispy air felt chilly on Che's skin, and he blew on his hands for warmth. Last hour of practice before the game and the nerves had started to kick in. The afternoon sun hung low on the field, as he ran up and down, throwing footballs to his teammates for what felt like hours. He had missed last week's practice, calling in "sick" (although he had just spent all week in bed with Colin). Coach had taken pity in him, even dropping by his dorm with some matzo ball soup and camomille tea. He'd walked in on Che sleeping calmly under his boyfriend, stroking his hair in his sleep. Colin had been awake, reading his literature-notes as his boyfriend napped. 

"Eh, hello there fella, r'ya that Colin-boy that Mike can't stop talking 'bout?" Coach had whispered as he laid eyes on the cuddling boys. 

Colin looked up and met his piercing green eyes. There's something about that man that scares the hell out of him. Possibly the assumptions that he wouldn't be acceptive towards having a gay quarterback, something Colin had dealt with as he played hockey in high school. Traumatic memories of locker room violence and his coach calling his mother to talk about "how her son is a faggot." Those things will forever be burned into his memory, ready to burst up whenever. 

"Hello, Coach. Yeah, that is I. Che's... out sick, could I do something for you?" Colin answered the man in front of him. He hated lying, especially to peers, the catholic in him screaming with his sins. But, yeah, better saying that he's sick than explaining how and why Michael's muscles are too sore for practice. 

Coach just gave him a knowing smirk and placed the beverage on the nightstand. He took a look around the room, studying the small apartment with his characteristically calculating eyes. 

"Pretty nice apartment ya' got here, boy. How did sophomore like yourself end up 'ere?" He rubbed his bushy eyebrows and took in the view.

Colin smiled coyly and played with the hem of his yellow hoodie. He hated telling people about his accomplishments since it made him feel like the worlds biggest asshole. "It came with the job, sir. I write for the Harvard Lampoon," Coach raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

"Really? Well, atta boy! So, what do you do there, then? Write a page every now and then?" Colin played with his curls and bit his lip. God, spare him this scrutiny.

"Actually, I am the head writer there," he answered in a low voice, trying to seem as far from bragging as possible. Coach's mouth perked up into a beaming grin. He stretched out his arm and patted Colin on his shoulder. 

"Well, I wouldn't have it any other way! A guy like Che only goes for the best and the brightest, doesn't he? I get what he sees in ya', Colin," He looked over at Michael, breathing heavily under Colin. 

"He's a good kid," he looked back at Colin and gave him a reassuring smile, "and I've seen him lookin' up at the bleachers, tryna' find ya' up there. He can be a bit of a dick sometimes, but I promise you, son, you're the best thing to ever happen' to him. Keep an eye on him for me, will ya'?" He ruffled Colin's hair and left the room with authoritative steps. 

After Coach had closed the door and Colin was sure that the shuffling steps had left the corridor, Colin poked his boyfriend awake. Michael just groaned and rolled over. 

"Coach got you some matzo ball soup, don't you want it? I might have to eat it all by myself..." Colin fake-groaned. Michael peeked up behind his wall of pillows at the promise of matzo ball soup. 

They had stayed in bed all day, eating soup and talking about everything and nothing. It had been so grossly domestic, and Che had felt as close to home as a New York-kid could feel in a student-apartment in Boston. 

He smiled at the memory, his chest filled up with warm, familiar love. They'd moved pretty quickly, from drunk hookups one week to announce their love for each other the next. Although, it couldn't have come earlier. 

Che had been in love with the dirty-blonde comedy writer since freshman year when they'd met at a frat party, gotten drunk, and Colin had cried for hours on end about "how beautiful Che's spirit was" and "how amazing Pulp Fiction is". Che's insides bubbled with joy every time he thought about his boyfriend.

**_Bang._ **Che felt a sudden pang in his head, forcing him back to reality. He reached up to ease the stinging pain and turned around rapidly, spotting a certain running back over by the end zone, looking suspiciously mischievous. He looked down and spotted the football that had been thrown to his head.

"Hey, what the fuck, dude!?" He yelled, spreading his arms with annoyance. 

Pete, the bastard, stuck his tongue out to him. "Stop daydreaming about your boyfriend's dick, dude! We need you on your best game, Che!" Che flushed, and sprinted over. "Not what I was doing. Now jus' throw me the god damn ball, Pete". 

"Yeah, yeah, boss man. But I am meeting him ASAP. Bring him down to Centro's Coffee tomorrow, Bennet and Mooney want's to meet him too. Capiche?" 

Che groaned internally at the thought of his teammates meeting his boyfriend. "Ugh, sure." Pete fixed him with an expecting eye. 

"God damn it, _capiche_."

Pete smiled and pulled him in for a hug. Che couldn't help but do the same. 

"Well, he's great in bed, and I really, really love him, but like... I don't know how to tell him that I hate his fucking cologne? It feels like I'm fucking an entire army of sweaty locker room jocks," Colin stated, sipping on his mimosa. 

Every Sunday, Kate, Leslie and himself would have brunch at Marge's Breakfast, the old Breakfast at Tiffany's-inspired salon on campus. 

Kate laughed at Colin's dilemma, stating that "once upon a time, you'd jumped at that idea, darling." Leslie chuckled and kissed her girlfriend on the cheek. 

"Colin, my sweet biscuits and gravy, just smash his bottle! He won't notice it, I swear." 

Kate frowned. "Wait, is that why I can't find my oreo-scented perfume? Babe, did you _smash_ my imported-from-Norway-for-60-dollars oreo-perfume?" 

Leslie flashed a terrified look on her face and screamed "I'm getting an important call, I must leave now, immediately," and both Colin and Kate broke out in laughter.

They were long time friends, the trio. They had met back in high school when they'd all auditioned for the same Broadway show. None of them got their parts, so they had ganged up and gone out together for "depression croissants." They'd knocked it off surprisingly well, and had stuck together ever since.

"He asked me to meet his teammates tomorrow morning, and I am fucking terrified. They're going to kill me, I'm sure! Pete's insane, or so I've heard, and Alex and Mikey are both very protective over him, so they'll probably try to interrogate me until I brake!" Kate took the trembling, nervous wreck's hands and spoke in a calm voice. 

"Love, I've seen you talk your way out of police-custody, high off your nuts and with two bottles of tequila in your blood. I think you'll be fine." Colin glared at her. 

"I thought we agreed never to speak about that night again?" He muttered, with red ears and piercing eyes.

"Wait, wasn't that the night when Aidy and Heidi stole a police horse and rode it into City Hall?" Leslie recalled, completely ignoring Colin, chuckling at the absurd memory. 

Kate's stomach hurt with how much she was wheezing, and Colin spat out his drink, drenching his and Leslie's parfait. 

"Yeah, and when Bowen took a piss in Melissa's new Valentino-bag" Colin added after he had calmed down from his laughing fit. 

They all sat there, exchanging stories from shared drunken nights and sipping on mimosas. It was as pleasantly familiar as always, and the trio felt at home. 

The sun had just barely reached the orange, yellow and brown trees and the campus was still October-chilly as Michael and Colin strutted along the sidewalk, sharing headphone buds and listening to "Ain't No Mountain High." 

"Colin, baby, stop fucking fidgeting. It'll go great, they'll love you." Che muttered, trying to calm down the nervous mess beside him. 

He released his hand and instead threw it over the shorter man's shoulder. When Colin rested his head in the nape of Che's neck, Che responded with planting a kiss on top of his neatly gelled wall of hair.

Colin glared at him, groaning something like "it takes an hour to fix it, so if you ruin it, you're dead." Che chuckled and ran his hand through his boyfriend's hair, pissing him off even more. 

"I can't believe I'm dating a guy who takes an hour, out of 24, to fix his hair," he stared dramatically up in the sky, "God, what have I become?" Colin just flipped him off and pulled out his earbud.

"Oh, god. Che, you didn't tell me you're dating an indie-gay? Please, for the love of God, tell me he's not into art or film, please!" Pete expressed dramatically as the pair entered the rather empty coffee-shop. 

Colin flashed a hurt expression and Che groaned, trying to fix the collateral damage. "Babe, he doesn't mean that. He's just a teasing dick, aight'?" Colin nodded and Pete seemed guilty, a very uncanny look on him. 

"Yeah, man... Eh, sorry. I'm not great at... human-stuff. You're really cool, or well, I don't know you. But you seem cool, and since you're dating our quarterback, you kinda' have to be, right?" He looked around the table and got some nods. 

Colin, sort of confused, just smiled at him and shook his hand. "No problem, bro. Michael, coffee?" He looked over to his boyfriend, who seemed keen at the idea. 

"That's the first time I've ever, ever, heard you say bro", Che said as they waited in line to order.

"Yeah, well, I feel like they'd be more comfortable if I adapted to their talk, so I'm trying out this whole 'Jock who bangs chicks' vibe, what do you think?" Colin beamed at his partner, who shook his head and stared back with disgusted, dark brown, eyes. 

"If you say 'vibe' again, I think I'll have to call Quentin Tarantino, so he can beat you back into your skinny-white-boy rubbish again, aight?" Colin flicked his chin and went up to the desk.

"Good morning, guys! Been a while, what have you been up to? Finally got the thumb out of your ass and got together?" Cecily, their usual cashier, greeted them. 

They'd gotten to know her over the last year since they hung out at Centro's all the time. The joint had the best (and cheapest) coffee on their campus and was small enough to feel welcoming and cosy, without being overly crowded.

Colin blushed and Michael raised their joined hands in the air triumphally. "That's right! Got me a beauty, here. All thanks to your _very pointed_ notes on our coffee cups. We got it, Cec, you wanted us to bang," Cecily laughed and smirked, as she prepared their orders, having remembered them ages ago. 

"Well, boys, it worked, didn't it? I won't apologize for writing your love-letters for you," Che raised a doubting eyebrow. 

"Love-letters, huh? Dunno' if I'd call 'Michael, Colin wants to suck your dick' a love letter, but okay," She just rolled her eyes fondly at him and poured the last bit of cream into his Latte Macchiato. 

"One Latte Michaelatto and one Colinchino for my lovebirds," She stated, as she placed their drinks on the counter. 

"Thanks a bunch, Cecily, and for your information: Michael's lying. He adores your little notes, he's just trying to live up to his tough-football-jock reputation," Colin answered and handed the barista a fiver. Cecily winked at them and went over to deal with yet another broke and sleep-deprived student.

Colin raised his mug to his mouth, and noticed a small note at the very bottom:

_"So proud of yall messes. No sex in my cafe, but since you're regulars I'll allow some respectful  PDA. Love you guys, xoxo Cec. #GayRights!" _

Colin chuckled and showed his boyfriend his cup, him showing his own _"if you fuck Colin up you're dead. Also, you're the best fucking customer ever. Kick some ass on the field Saturday night! Love, your Cec"_

The pair shared a chaste kiss and went to join Che's teammates at the table. 

"So, Colin. What are your intentions with our Michael, here? You gonna' put a ring on it, or what?" Pete asked, shifting closer to Colin's personal space. He was nervous as hell, surrounded by all these tall, strong, varsity-jacket bearing guys who could beat him up in a second, without even breaking a sweat. 

"Eh, well, I intend to love and cherish him for as long as he allows me to." He didn't want to come off as delusional, so he refrained from assuming that they were bound to stay together forever. Even though he didn't want to imagine ever being left by Michael, you never know what happens when they move back to New York after their senior year. 

Pete nodded slowly and studied Colin's pale features. His piercing blue eyes mapped Colin's face, seemingly trying to mark anything that could prove that Colin was lying. That he really didn't love Michael, but just wanted the clout of dating the football star. Although, he'd have to be looking forever to find something because never before had Colin been so sure that he loved another human, then with Michael. 

"...Mhm. Okay, yeah. You're good, Colin. I'm happy Michael's finally met a guy that deserves him," Pete red lips finally spoke, deflating the bubble of tension in Colin's chest. 

"Yeah, well I'm happy you've finally, after all these months, gotten laid. The unresolved sexual tension was too much to bear," Alex said, his head resting on his boyfriend's shoulder. 

Michael stared at him with doubtful eyes. "Dude, do I need to remind you that it took you _two full years_ to finally ask Mikey out? You're in no position to talk here, bud." 

Alex flipped him off and Michael threw his used napkin at his head. Just as Alex was about to launch over at Michael, a man stepped in and held him down. 

"Calm, Alex. Calm. Jesus, you guys are the most 5-year-old 19-year-olds I've ever met. Behave, please, or else I'm taking away your juice boxes," a large man that Colin vaguely recognized stated, now snatching a napkin-plane from Pete's hands and throwing it in the trash. He offered Colin his hand and shook it. 

"Hi, Colin. I'm Kenan, and I'm the unlucky bastard that has to dad-friend these walking mayhems," He introduced himself, and Colin laughed.

"Right, I knew I recognized you. I've heard a lot about you, thank you for bringing my drunken boyfriend home after parties, don't know what I'd do without you," Colin answered. 

Kenan smiled with gratitude and sat down once again. "Well, senior's privileges, I guess." 

They remained seated (apart from Kyle, who apparently couldn't sit still for longer than 15 minutes. They all seemed okay with that) and were reduced to chatting on about life, some questions were asked about Colin's childhood, some about schoolwork and some about the Lampoon. 

They sat there for what felt like hours, just drinking up the atmosphere. Cecily had come by to refill their drinks and talk some, before returning to her job. Colin felt blissful, and Che couldn't help but gaze over from time to time, studying how glorious his features looked in the early morning sunlight. 

"Well, fellas, time for practice. I'll see ya' on the field in twenty, yeah? Colin, good to see ya' again, son. Team, if you're late, there'll be push-ups waitin'. Kenan, get em' moving." Coach announced as he peeked through the café-door. 

The group nodded and raised from the table in no time. For a group of adolescents, they really seemed to respect their old coach. 

"Well, you heard the man," Che said, "If I'm late, Lorne's gonna kill me, so I got to go. I'll catch up with you later, babe." Colin pulled him in for a kiss and waved good-bye to his new friends. 

He sat down by the window and finished his drink, barely recognizing the soft indie music in the background. His eyes were tired but his brain was wide awake, reminding him about the gigantic pile of work he had to finish, before even beginning to write the jokes for the Lampoon. He groaned and gathered his possessions. He waved good-bye to Cecily, receiving two encouraging thumbs up in response. He grabbed his to-go mug and headed out in the crisp morning.

His legs were shaking, his eyes were dry, and his mind felt completely numb. Colin had been staring at his blank screen for hours on end, trying desperately to come up with ideas for his paper on Russian literature, with no success. 

The deadline was just around the corner, but the more he tried to just get a few words down, the more his blooming headache reminded him of the fact that it had been way too long since he had gotten some rest. 

The library was empty, except for some young lovers fooling around in a corner, and him and Kate, of course. The night was calling, as Colin looked up at the ancient clock on the wall, reading 9.16 PM. He released an exhausted sigh and poked Kate's half-asleep face awake. She just looked up at him with tired, dazed eyes and mumbled something about coffee. Colin left her to her half-sleeping, half-studying duties and left the library, on a hunt for the sweet juice of life. 

The night was a chilly one, and Colin really should've brought his coat. He hugged his shivering ribcage tighter and gritted his teeth, following the streetlights to the closest late-night coffee joint. The wind blew around him, forcing beautiful yellows, browns, and oranges down from the swaying trees. The campus had always looked better at night, more intimate, more comfortable, and less crowded with prep-boys and gals. 

He pushed the coffee shop-door open with his hip and waddled in. The cashier looked miserable, but Colin couldn't blame them. They were working on a Friday night in a coffee shop on campus, and they probably didn't even have worker's rights! Colin should ask if they're in a union. No, he's getting distracted by his pro-labour heart, he needs some coffee now to soothe the atom-bombing in his skull. He went up to the desk and smiled at the poor soul in front of him. 

"Hi, could I get a... Are you okay?" The cashier seemed to be on the brink of passing out, and Colin reached over to steady them with his long arms. 

"Yeah, I'm so sorry, long night," the cashier answered. Colin nodded in sympathy and helped them to a chair, grabbing a cup of water in the process. As soon as they had hit the chair, their eyes went behind their eyelids and their entire body collapsed onto Colin's. 

"Hang on, here, drink this water. Do you need any medication?" He asked, trying to seem as professional as possible, as to not stress the young person out even more. 

They smiled a dopey smile and said, "if you could get my body to produce its own testosterone, that would be great," Colin chuckled and felt the alarming tension slowly fade away. 

"Sorry, but I don't have the facilities for that, buddy," he responded with his classic charm. 

They sat there for a while, both of them breathing slowly, trying to calm down before Colin spoke. "If I'm intruding on a personal matter here, then please tell me," his companion nodded. "But do you have a chest-binder on? Is it restricting the oxygen flow to your brain?" 

The person next to him tensed up in his arms, their eyes shifted from dazed to wide awake in a matter of milliseconds. Once again, their breath grew thin and Colin felt how they began to hyperventilate. He felt like a dick, he should've been more careful, more compassionate. He just sat there, rubbing their back and tried to get them to calm down. He looked over at the shaking body beside him, noticing a nameplate that read "Archer, they/them" and decided to try some of the technics he had learned when he too had suffered from panic attacks during his teenage years. 

"Archer, do you think you can focus on an object for me? Whatever object's speaking to you right now," but Archer didn't look up from the ground, still breathing heavily.

"Come on, buddy, I know you can. You're so strong, you can do this." Archer's gaze began to shift, and finally, they clung to Colin's hand and fixed their eyes on the vintage British flag on the wall. Archer squeezed their hand to recognize that they had picked an object. Colin smiled at them with calm and collected eyes.

"Great, now can you describe it for me, please? I know you can," Archer rocked back and forth, seemingly having trouble getting their words out. 

"I can start. It's rectangular and it's hanging from two nails," Colin tried.

Archer took a deep breath. "It's... blue, and- and white, and red," Colin patted them lightly on their shoulder. "There you go, buddy! Now, keep on going, you're doing great," Colin whispered gently. 

"It has the, uh, the Union Jack on it," Archer said, and Colin nodded, encouraging them to continue. 

"It's... quite big, I think. Almost as big as the front door," They paused to take a deep breath, and seemed to be in more control of their surroundings than before. 

"It's a bit yellow on the side, since I- I think it's rather old, actually," Archer stammered on, with golden locks flopping on their sweaty forehead. Colin hugged the now calmer young person in his arms and guided them to breath with him. 

"That's right, Archer. In, slowly, hold it for a second, and then release the tension, feeling your lungs rise and fall. Yes, just like that, great job, kiddo," he couldn't help but notice how he sounded just like Coach Lorne. 

The body beside him slowly and steadily decompressed, and their breaths grew even and deep. After some minutes of breathing, breathing, breathing, and Colin stroking the poor kid's back, Archer let go of Colin's embrace and straightened up in their chair. They looked over to Colin who gazed back with tired but proud eyes. 

"Thank you. Thank you so much, this was really nice of you," Archer mumbled in a low, almost embarrassed voice. 

Colin offered them a smile and said, "anytime, kiddo. I've been there myself, and it ain't easy, but I always reckoned that it helps to have some company." Archer nodded and rubbed their eyes. 

"Are you tired?" Colin asked, already knowing the answer. 

"Mhm, but I have to close up the shop before I can go home," Archer responded, letting out an exhausted groan. Colin took a look around the shop, spotting no customers and some pretty clean tables. 

"You know what, Archer, you go home. I'll take care of closing, I've helped a friend of mine close Centro's more times than you can count, so it won't be an issue. Now, go home and take a breather, you need it," Colin said, ruffling the younger person's hair. Archer looked up and met his eyes. 

"No, god, I've already put you through way too much, I can't do that to you," Colin raised his hand and Archer stopped talking. 

"Yes, you can. It's only right, Archer. And I am pretty sure you would've done the same for me, wouldn't you?" They nodded and let out a satisfactory breath.

"Thank you, thank you so much! God, you can have as much free coffee as you want," they chuckled, and Colin smiled. 

"I'd love that, thank you. Wait, do you even know my name?" He just realised he hadn't even introduced himself. Stupid. Archer's cheeks grew red and they looked down at their fresh sneakers.

"Eh, yeah... Colin, right?" Colin's eyebrows rose in confusion. How did this young kid know his name? He nodded and his companion chuckled awkwardly. 

"Well, I- uh, I really love your stand-ups. They're hilarious, and you should've won best comic on campus by far. So, eh... yeah, I know who you are. Sorry if that's weird," they looked up at Colin who just smiled.

"Not weird at all, Arch. Just nice to meet someone who appreciates all the hard work I put in, you know," he chuckled, Archer joining in. 

"And I've got to disagree, I was in no way better than Leslie. She fucking killed it up there," Archer nodded. 

"Yeah, that's true. Her 'super baby' bit made my stomach hurt from laughing so hard. God, I wish I knew her, she seems so cool." 

Colin laughed and put on a cocky smile, "You know, buddy, I'm best friends with the lady. If you want, I can bring her down here and introduce you guys. She'd love you," Archer's eyes shot wide open. 

"Are you kidding me? That would literally be the single coolest customer I've ever had! Well, maybe except when Michael Che, the quarterback, came in a few days ago. He's so fucking hot, I'll tell you that!" Archer stated, as they were just about to part in the doorway, Archer to head home and Colin to clean up.

Colin chuckled and answered the kid. "Yeah, he's really, really hot. Too bad his boyfriend's so smoking handsome too though... I can't compare."

They waved goodbye, exchanging phone numbers, and Colin stood in the door, looking out so Archer would get into the Uber safely. He went back to the counter, grabbed a mop, and got to work. 

Around 10.30 PM, his phone buzzed just as he was about to close the shop. He fished it out of his pocket and pressed the speaker button, putting his phone on his shoulder as he locked the door, balancing two steaming cups of coffees in his hands. 

"Jost here," he answered into the phone. 

_"Yeah, hi Colin Kelly Jost. This is your very worried gay wife, calling to wonder where the hell you went? You left for coffees over an hour ago, and what, you had to get them at Neil's Coffee on Manhattan, or what?"_

Oh shit, he had completely forgotten about Kate. In his defence, he hadn't really had the chance to tell her that it'd take some time. 

"Well, Katey, you slept when I left so I figured you wouldn't notice," Kate huffed on the other side of the line. 

_"What are you sneaking off to do, then? Cheating on Che? If you are, then I'll beat your ass so fucking hard,"_ Kate growled.

Colin chuckled and said teasingly, "you're 5'2, Kate. You sure you could beat me up?" He was met by a beat of silence.

 _"Bitch, did I fucking stutter?"_ Colin couldn't contain his traitorous laugh.

"I'm closing up the coffee-shop around the corner, I'll explain everything later. Just, come over here. I'm too riled up to either study or sleep right now," Colin said and heard Kate gather their belongings in the library. 

_"Sure, I'll be there, hang on for a minute, I'll meet you"_ With that, the line was cut and Colin's phone beeped as the call ended. 

"So I offered to help them close up, you called, and now I'm here." Kate raised her eyebrows and chuckled at Colin's story.

"Only Colin Jost can go for a 5-minute coffee run, end up helping a random teenager down from a panic attack and closing a store you've never been to before. You're something different, Col," Kate answered and patted him on the back. 

"Yeah, well, I'm kind of shaken up. I don't know if I'm ready to head to bed yet," Colin said, feeling his heart beating vigorously in his chest. Kate nodded as they rounded the street corner onto their campus, spotting lights and ear-shattering music from a house up the street. Kate pointed at the drunken havoc and nudged Colin's side.

"So you don't want to go home yet, and I have a deadline I'd _love_ to procrastinate on... How would you feel being my date to this very loud frat-party, darling?" Colin laughed and took the shorter woman by her arm. 

"Sounds like one hell of a plan to me. Let's go."

He tightened their joined arms and dragged her up the street.

The music was loud, Colin's ears felt on fire and the fluorescent lights blinded them as they entered the drink-filled kitchen. The kitchen island had been transformed into an arena for cup-flipping, with red solo-cups hopping up and down, and drunk students cheering them on. Kate squeaked in happiness and turned to demand a role on a team. She'd made a name for herself as a cup-flipping legend, after her streak of 20-0 wins in a row, and, with her short height, always got super hammered. She pushed her way through the sea of tall frat-boys and reached the table. She talked to some Brad-looking guy and he offered her a cup. Colin smiled, satisfied with his best friend being treated with respect. Being a short, out-spoken lesbian, that sometimes didn't happen. 

Colin left Kate to her cup-flipping and went over to pour himself a drink. The bar - or, the ironing board that the frat-boys had used as one - had more bottles on it than Colin could count. He stared at the beverages, pondering. On one hand, he really had to study tomorrow and waking up in someone's bathtub with one hell of a hungover didn't seem too nice.

But, on the other hand... he _had_ just spent his entire evening dealing with a panic attack and un-paid labour... He grabbed a bottle of Sauza Tequila and pour himself a glass. And then, without even thinking, took a swig from the (probably herpes-infected) bottle. 

The liquor stung in his throat and he felt the usual warm, fussy feeling in his chest. The one where you can almost feel the alcohol, poising your blood. But... in a good way. He grabbed his solo-cup and headed over to the living room, in search of familiar faces. 

He had just rounded the corner to the study-area turned dance floor, when he bumped into a tall, broad-shouldered man. He looked up at the giant, who stared back with warm (and rather drunk) eyes. 

"Colin, dude! It's me, Kenan, from earlier. It's good to see ya' again, man!" He slurred his speech, pretty far gone already. Colin offered him a smile and pulled him in for a hug. 

"It's good to see you too, Kenan. Are you here all alone?" Colin asked, looking out over the sea of identical frat-boys, all with jerseys, combed middle-parts and expensive shoes they'll have ruined by the morning. Colin had a swing of his drink at the horrifying scene.

"Nah, man. The kids are here too. I thought you and Michael were supposed to meet up? Didn't he tell you he was going?" Kenan said, resting casually on the back of another probably-basketball-player. 

Colin seemed puzzled. Che hadn't mentioned anything about going to a party later, and they always went together. Strange. If Colin was a possessive man, maybe he would've been suspicious. But he wasn't, he _wasn't_ , and of course, Che could enjoy a party without his company once in a while. Still, though. Strange.

"No, he didn't tell me anything. I'm here with Kate, a friend of mine at the Lampoon, actually. She's the little blonde who's killing it on the cup-flip game, over there," Colin pointed at Kate, currently dominating another speed-round and Kenan followed his finger to the soon-to-be drunk woman. 

"Holy shit, she's insane! Is that... Kate McKinnon? As in... like, the funniest person on campus?" Kenan's eyebrows spurted upwards, looking like a starstruck 12-year-old. Colin chuckled at him, his insides beaming with pride over his best friend.

"Ha, well that depends on who you ask. Some say it's her, and they wouldn't be wrong, but some say it's her girlfriend Leslie, and they wouldn't be wrong either." Kenan laughed a surprised laugh. 

"Are all funny people gay? I've dreamt of writing for the Lampoon since I was a kid, but I guess I got to find myself a rocking twink first," they joined in laughing at his obscure joke, which would've been very offensive if it had been told by anyone else. 

"Well, I'm gonna hit the floor. I think Michael went upstairs if you're looking for him. I'll see you Saturday night, Colin!" With that, Kenan waved off and stumbled over to the dance floor.

Colin stood on the bottom of the wooden stairs, pondering. Should he go looking for Michael? He shouldn't care. Of course, he should just enjoy the party and hang out with his friends. He should call up Leslie and Aidy, get drunk and forget about these ugly emotions of jealousy. He should check up on Kate, she's a lightweight, and he should dance his ass off, he should down his drink, he should- annnnd he's upstairs. 

Colin's traitours legs had brought him upstairs and his eyes scanned the rather empty floor. He met two drunken ladies, both on the verge of puking and managed to get the to the balcony in time.

"Incoming!" He yelled down at the backyard as the two drunken girls hurled over the balcony railing. They thanked him for his service and followed him back to the top of the stairs for water. He looked around, spotting a door to what appeared to be a bedroom down the hall. The girls noticed him edging closer to the room, and one of them slurred out "Hey, I, ugh, I think someoneee's havin' sex in there. I'd, uh, I'd leave them be if I were you," with heavy eyelids and a drawled out words.

Colin stared at her. She was drunk, so she wouldn't know, right? Michael would never do that. Right? Right. Right... He couldn't stop himself from doubting. His brain planted some ugly images in his head and he felt almost dizzy. 

"I'm, yeah, I'm goi- going to leave ya' nooow," the girl said, excessively waving her hands in Colin's face, dragging her friend with her. Colin swayed on his feet and looked at the pair, dangerously close to tumbling down the stairs, holding on to the railing for their lives. 

He glanced over to the door once again and felt his feet drag him closer. The alcohol made him bolder than usual and he went up to the door to put his ear against the thick piece of wood. 

He was met with what sounded like groaning, shuffling and an occasional, shaky, _"fuck"._ Colin had been with Michael long enough to know and memorise how he sounded in bed, and that was definitely his voice. 

Colin felt weak to his knees and felt a beam of sweat roll down his drunkenly red cheek. If he didn't have that tequila earlier, then maybe he would've gone downstairs, and he'd bring this up with Michael tomorrow. He wouldn't have known, even, and his heart wouldn't be as broken as it is right now. So empty, so jealous, so fucking _used_. Played, like the naive piece of trash he is. He thought that he was special - had thought he meant something else to Che. 

His lips met the salty water that had begun pouring down from his eyes. His throat stung from the alcohol and the bags under his eyes sunk further down on his reddened face. He must've looked like a mess, all wet from crying and with spilt tequila on his shirt. He sank to his knees on the cold floor, rested his heavy head on the wall, and let his thoughts run wild.

Fuck. He didn't want it to be over. For it all to go down with lies and cheating and shaky _fucks_ behind wooden doors. He had believed in them. In "them". There probably never even was a "them" to Michael. To him, Colin was nothing more than a foolish boy with a great ass. 

But it felt so far off, that it almost felt insane. Che had treated him beautifully, always, and Colin couldn't help but be impressed by his acting skills. His act, the one he had put up during the time they had together, had been so sincere that Colin wouldn't have doubted anything if it wasn't for what was going on in the room behind the door he sat in front of right now.

Colin felt anger boiling up, burning from within, coursing through his body and rattling his bones. The sudden burst of irritation gave him the courage he needed to take a deep breath, and down the rest of his tear-mixed drink, smiling bitterly as the beverage burned in his throat. He rose to his feet and forcefully pushed the door open with both his hands.

"You son of a bitch, I fucking loved you! How _fucking dare you_ fuck another man?! Am I nothing to you? Am I just your glorified fucktoy you could have some fun with every other night? Is that all I am? I was never enough, was I. Never! You never loved me. That's the truth. You never loved me. I was only but an experiment for you. I should've left you SO FUCKING LONG AGO, YOU SICK FUCKING ASSHOLE! I... I WISH YOU NEVER HAD BEEN BOR-" Colin stopped in his tracks.

He had burst through the door so suddenly that he didn't even notice his surroundings before launching into his speech. Michael was sitting on the bedroom carpet, besides Pete and Alex. They were all dressed, Michael looked sharp in a grey Harvard-hoodie, (one Colin had borrowed one too many times), a pair of dark jeans and a Knicks-hat. He had some beams of sweat peeking out under his hairline, and Pete breathed heavily. Colin stared at the men, tears still streaking down his cheeks, and they stared back, confusion poisoning their eyes. Colin's mouth stood agape. 

"What- uh, _what the fuck is going on here?!_ " Colin yelled out after a long beat of silence. The three men looked at each other. 

"What- What are you talking about?! We were just having a push-up contest! I betted Pete I could do 40 and he took me up on it!" Che yelled back, with a desperate look on his face. Pete and Alex stared at the confused pair with fear in their eyes. 

"I- What? I thought you were having sex?! You... what!? You moaned and shit!" Colin screeched, making Michael flinch. 

"Yes, 'cuz it was hard! My arms hurt, dammit!" Che barked back. He noticed how scared Colin looked, how his lips trembled and his arms hugging his body tightly. 

Michael stood up and edged closer. He didn't want to overstep. "This was just a big misunderstanding, Col. I'm so sorry," Colin didn't meet his eyes. 

"Can I, Col... Colin, can I- may I... touch you? Please?" Colin looked at him with cloudy, wet eyes and bit his lip. He didn't really understand everything yet. But he wanted to believe Michael, and so he offered him a little nod.

Michael let out a breath of air he didn't notice he was holding and took two long strides over to the small, angry man. Carefully, he pulled him to his chest and allowed his arms to hold the crying man, his beautiful boy, tightly around his waist. 

Colin's eyes damped his hoodie and he felt how Colin's lungs heaved up and down. He rubbed his back and whispered how much he loved him in his ear, trying to get him to calm down. Colin's hands grabbed his hoodie and he snuggled his head further into Che's shoulder. 

"I am so sorry, baby. So, so sorry. I'm so sorry I made you doubt my love for you. I love you so much. Never question that, ever. I'll show you how much I love you every morning when you wake up, all messy and cute on my chest, and I'll show you how much I love you through the entire day, until the night, and then I'll hold you so tight when you glow like you always do after sex, and I'll show you how much... How much I fucking love you, Colin." Now Che's eyes watered up too, leaving them crying and hugging on the bedroom floor. Colin didn't say anything. 

"...Am I too late?" Che whispered, with his forehead pressed against Colin's. Colin looked him straight in the eye as he finally spoke.

"No, Michael. No, you're not. You're never too late. Even if you were, I'd wait my entire life for you," he mumbled, his lips forming a sad, loving smile. Che's eyes lit up and he couldn't help himself but drag the shorter man in for a kiss. 

The kiss was emotional, demanding, and grew salty as their tears blended on their darkened, red lips. Colin's hands went down to pull the taller man closer by the belt-hoops of his jeans and Che's large, demanding hands left Colin's wet, red cheeks and trailed his sharp jaw up to his messy locks.

Colin slid his tongue into Michael's warm mouth, making him shudder and tug slightly at Colin's hair. Colin moaned and took two small steps backwards, feeling the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Without breaking the heavy kiss, Che grabbed his boyfriend by his hips and lifted him up so that Colin was straddling him in the air.

"So... Eh, well, we should get out of here... like, now" Pete rose to his feet and rubbed his neck, trying very hard to not stare at the kissing pair. 

"Yeah, uh, use condoms... or whatever," Alex joined him and the friends basically sprinted out of the bedroom, leaving the couple to themselves.

Colin barely registered that the had been lowered to the bed until the warm body on top of him got up and went over to the door. Colin was just about to ask if Michael was leaving when his partner locked the door and turned around, once again facing his flushed boyfriend. They locked eyes and Che offered his boyfriend a wink. 

His dark browns studied Colin's pale features with craving, lustful eyes. Colin felt naked under his gaze. He tried to reach out and touch the exposed skin where Michael's hoodie had slipped up, but his boyfriend swatted his hands away. Instead, he climbed up on the bed, between Colin's legs, and slowly pulled Colin's shirt off. His cold hands reached out and dragged a lustful finger over the revealed set of toned abs, making Colin twitch at the sensation. His hands went up to the hem of Michael's hoodie, clenching the material with shaky hands. 

They were so close, Michael could feel Colin's heart pounding hard and fast in his chest. He leaned in and met Colin's lips, this time bringing his teeth down on his boyfriend's bottom lip. His hoodie went up over his chest, and he reared back to allow it being dragged over his head and thrown beside the bed. Colin's hands lingered on his broad shoulders, and Che felt burning lips move down from his mouth to his cheek, then his jaw, and then to his neck. Colin sucked harshly, and Michael shuddered at the sensation. He pushed Colin back down on the bed and climbed on top of him. He took one final look at his boyfriend.

"Damn, Col. You really are one fine piece of ass, huh".

"Soooo, did you guys plan on staying here, or..." Che heard someone say as he began stirring awake. He withdrew his arms from around his boyfriend's naked torso and faced the source of disruption. 

"Who the hell are you?" He asked, feeling a hungover pound naughtily behind his half-opened eyelids. He remembered bits from the night prior, how he'd gone to the party with Alex and Pete, how Colin had stormed in, bearing a look on his face that still pained Michael, and how beautiful he had looked when they made up, vigorously, on the very same bed he was now so rudely awaken on. 

"I'm Nick, and this is my house," said Nick, with a tall and lanky man on his left. They both looked annoyed, probably hungover as well, and Michael couldn't help but feel sorry for them. Hosting a party at your own house is never a good idea, and never ends well. Che had learned that the hard way. 

"Sorry, man. We, uh... got stuck here last night. I'll wake him up," he nudged his head at Colin, sleeping peacefully beside him, "and we'll bust it. Sorry again, fellas." 

The duo in the doorway looked unimpressed, but the lankier of the two remarked that "I guess that's okay. Just... keep in mind there are others in this house. Don't go downstairs naked. You guys used condoms, right? I really don't want to clean dirty STD-sheets. You know, not wearing a condom can cause really ugly spots on your... nether regions." Che just stared at them with confused (and grossed out) eyes, offered them a nod, and the pair left the room.

"Colin, baby, it's time to get up. Some dudes just reprimanded my ass about the importance of safe-sex. I wanna leave," He patted his boyfriend on his shoulder, trying to get the sleeping bastard to wake up. Always an issue. Colin just kept on snoring, forcing Michael to take further actions.

"Col, sweet honey o' mine, if you wake up, I'll buy you some good, hungover bacon at that hipster-place you like downtown. That, what's it called... Bubbie's? I know you want to," Che coaxed in a sing-song voice. 

As suspected, Colin's messy hair peeked up behind the gigantic wall of pillows. 

"...Mmmh. Bubbie's from my bubbie," Colin smiled, and Michael fake-gagged. 

"Oh my god, you're so fucking white," making Colin laugh and turn around to face him. "That sounds great, Che." He leaned in and planted a sweet kiss on his partner's lips. Michael pulled away and frowned.

"Damn, you fuckin' stink, babe. Go take a shower, I'll meet you downstairs." Colin swatted his arm and stuck his tongue out. "Your fault, hun," Che huffed out and released his smelly boyfriend. 

"Whatever you say, Colin."

Dressed in last night's clothes, Che shuffled slowly and (not so) steadily down the stairs in search for aspirin and a glass of water to soothe his burning hangover. The kitchen was a mess, with spilt drinks and half-smoked joints scattered around the rather empty room. He spotted the two men from earlier, now accompanied by two more, chatting briefly in the corner. One of them was shugging on the end of a water hose, which Michael could relate to immensely. 

He trotted over to the sink and let the water run over his bare underarms. He sighed at the cooling sensation and dropped his head to the kitchen cabinet in front of him. 

Time felt altered, like it always did the night after a party, as he stood and breathed in the early morning air, barely registering how his arms had gone numb from the chilly water. Everything felt zoned out, like a grey mist, too thick to plunge through. Nothing was urgent, nothing couldn't wait. Everything was right here, right now, in this messy 7 AM kitchen, with its grey walls and yellow cabinets. He took a deep breath and scanned the room for a clean glass. He went and picked one up, pouring some water in it, and walked past the talking men to the patio. 

It was cold - mad cold - but something in the air made him feel at home. At peace. "You don't get that a lot 'round here," he thought to himself, as he raised his glass and sipped his water. He looked out over the sea of red and yellow trees overlooking the patio and the narrow stream beside it. It was beautiful. The scene reminded him a lot of his childhood home, with rotten leaves on the ground and the casual whisper from the body of water, running so peacefully beside him. 

He had a place like this back home in New York. Down on Lower East Side, where he had spent his first 15 years. It was right next to the Corlears Hook Dock, where the river met the projects. There, over the fence and out on the pier, was an opening in the planted woods. An opening for him, and him only. His Mama used to scold him for going there, reprimanding him about the dangers of being seen out and about on a place like that, especially as a black man, but he hadn't cared.

He used to sit there all night, looking out over the New York skyline, breathing in the unusually fresh midnight air and listen to the dull vibrations from the city centre. He'd dream, big and small, about a life beyond this. Beyond the projects, beyond the pier, beyond everything. He'd dream of the fields - the rolling greens and the bleachers - and he'd dream of that building. That building on 30 Rockefeller, on which his gaze would linger every day as he commuted uptown to LaGuardia High School. 

He felt a presence beside him, a familiar one, and it brought him back to the patio, to reality. He didn't look over, he didn't have to, he just put his head on his boyfriend's shoulder and closed his eyes. 

He had realised it recently. That the more he ran, fled, from that pier, the closer it got to him. And on that moment, on the patio, with his head propped up gently on his boyfriend's shoulder, he knew that the pier - no matter how many yards he rushes - will always be a part of him. He is the pier, as much as the pier is him. 


End file.
